


Rescue Me

by Angelise (angelise7)



Series: The Rescue Series [1]
Category: Highlander: The Series, due South
Genre: Damn Adam Pierson!, Dewey to the rescue, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Former published zine, M/M, Ray deals with his emotions in an unhealthy manner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:18:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3818536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelise7/pseuds/Angelise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray makes the decision to share a secret with Fraser. Little does he know that Fraser also has a secret to share with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue Me

 

 

 

“I can do this.”

Chicago Detective Raymond Kowalski stared at his image in the mirror and admonished his reflection again, a task he was becoming quite familiar with, especially since being partnered with undoubtedly the weirdest Canadian Mountie in the entire world.

“I can do this. I have to do this. Do it now or suffer the… suffer…”

He glared momentarily at the man in the mirror as if he was the one holding hostage the word his mind refused to surrender. “Or suffer the… consequences! Yeah. Suffer the consequences!”

“Talking to yourself, Kowalski?”

He glanced to the side and discovered fellow detective Tom Dewey standing at the sink next to him washing his hands. Embarrassed at getting caught having a conversation with himself, he dug his comb out of the back pocket of his jeans and haphazardly swiped it through his hair. He knew he already had a reputation for being a tad bit unorthodox, no use adding insane to the list of adjectives being bandied about by his co-workers.

“Mind your own business, Dewey,” he muttered.

“Hey! Don’t get your skivvies in a wad!” Tom threw his hands up in the air and backed away. “I was just checking to see if ya wanted me to call the guys with the little white jackets.”

“Up yours.”

“In your dreams, Kowalski.”

If Tom only knew.

Yeah, he had dreams about taking it up the ass, but that’s all it was nowadays, just dreams. From the moment he had said the words ‘I do’ to his wife, Stella, he had put his hunger for men on the back burner. He had remained faithful to the only person willing to offer his sorry ass a chance at happiness.

Of course, as fate would have it, his attempt at what the world declared as normalcy ended up in divorce court. Feeling totally defeated and completely worthless – a belief that was reinforced not only by the failure of his marriage but also by the repeated failure of each and every heterosexual relationship he had entered into once his divorce was final – he gave into the hunger again, seeking out the kind of men who somehow satisfied the ache in his gut. Unfortunately, the ache in his heart never seemed to go away, no matter how many asses he fucked.

And hell, if he hadn’t fucked some asses.

Countless men, men that had remained nameless and faceless, had paraded through his life, and not one had left a mark upon his battered heart. Not until a pair of stunning blue eyes had turned their gaze upon him. In that instant, he had felt the ice that had kept his soul immune from joy and happiness melt away. His nightly forays into Chicago’s back alleys and shady clubs became a thing of the past, and only on rare occasions – those where Fraser tested the very limits of his control – did he seek out the reassuring comfort of another man’s embrace.

Totally forgetting he still had an audience, he stuffed his comb back inside his pocket and mumbled, “But that’s all about to change. Change for the better, I hope.”

“Talking to yourself is a sure sign that your mind is going.” Tom flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his jacket and straightened his tie.

Startled, Ray shifted his gaze back to the man standing beside him and tugged nervously on the neckline of his tee-shirt, hiding behind the mantle of sarcasm he wore to keep people from seeing the real Raymond Kowalski. “At least I’ve got a mind, which is more than I can say for you or your partner.”

“One of these days, Kowalski. One of these days.” Tom flipped him the bird on his way out of the restroom.

“Asshole.”

He dismissed his nosey co-worker and went back to examining his image in the mirror. “It’s now or never. Either piss or get off the pot. Tell Fraser you love him, or get the hell out of Dodge.”

Tell Fraser you love him.

Shit! Talk about a mid-life crisis. Falling in love with your incredibly sexy and very male partner had to rank number one on the list of things guaranteed to screw up your mind, not to mention your life.

Closing his eyes, he tried to pinpoint the moment he had fallen in love with Benton Fraser. Was it when that crazy arson chick aimed her gun at Fraser? Or was it the day at the cemetery when he, himself, had been willing to throw away his entire future with the department to settle an old debt with a demon that had haunted him for years?

Fraser had called him a good man that day. Had declared he was proud to have him as his partner and his friend.

Partner.

Friend.

What about . . .

Lover?

Would Fraser still be proud to call him his partner and friend if he confessed his feelings of love for him?

Ray rubbed his belly, hoping to calm the nervous butterflies flitting around inside. He had just made a decision that was going to change his life forever. Whether it would change it for better or worse was up to Fraser; and at this moment, he was seriously having second doubts about the whole damn situation.

“Maybe gettin’ out of town is the way to go. Cut my losses now while my heart is still intact.”

NO!

The unspoken protest was so loud and so forceful, he actually glanced behind to see if someone else had yelled the word outloud. Finding no one, he looked back at the mirror and uttered the word that had just bombarded his brain.

“No.”

No, he wasn’t leaving town.

“No.”

No, he wasn’t going to act the coward.

“No.”

And no, he wasn’t letting go of the best thing to ever come into his life.

Ray pointed an insistent finger at his reflection. “You, my friend, are gonna go out there, and grab hold of your future with both hands.”

The idea of grabbing Fraser brought an image to mind, and immediately the anxious frown on his face was replaced with a wicked smile. “Grab him and fuck him ‘til he howls like Dief.”

Dropping his hands to his crotch, he lightly stroked his shaft while his mind replayed one of his favorite fantasies . . . the one where Fraser was wearing nothing but that sexy red uniform jacket of his and had him stripped naked and bent over the Ice Queen’s desk while pounding hard inside his . . .

A stray thought suddenly snagged his attention and cast a discouraging shadow upon his brief moment of happiness.

Fraser’s not gay.

That thought was a sucker punch to his gut, and Ray gripped the sides of the sink, struggling slightly for air.

Fraser’s not gay. Shit! You’d think I’d remember that little tidbit of information.

He sucked in a deep breath and focused his gaze on the rust stain circling the sink’s drain-hole.

Fraser’s straight. He loves the ladies. He’s never, and I repeat, never looked at a man.

Yeah, but that doesn’t mean Fraser can’t switch sides. Doesn’t mean that with a little encouragement from you know who, he couldn’t learn to enjoy the laddies. Fraser’s pretty open-minded, and even if he decided it wasn’t the thing for him . . .

Coming to a sudden decision, Ray pushed away from the sink and tidied his Chicago Bulls tee-shirt by pulling on its hem. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still gonna tell him I love him, and if Fraser can’t resip . . . resipo . . .” He slapped the sides of the sink in complete frustration. “Return! If Fraser can’t return my feelings, then that’s okay. I’ll deal with it.”

Still gripping the sink in front of him, he rocked back and forth in a sudden fit of confusion. Was what he said true? Could he deal with just being friends with Fraser?

Living alone was getting damn depressing, and even though he tried his best to spend nearly every waking moment with Fraser, it was still him and him alone that crawled into that empty bed each night. Yet, when forced to contemplate a future that didn’t include his crazy cohort, he was more than willing to spend his days chasing the bad guys with Fraser and Dief on his heels and suffer through the long and lonely nights hugging nothing more than the pillows he had been toting around since his divorce.

“Something is a hell of a lot better than nothing, if you ask me.”

Then why the need to spill your gut? the mirror asked.

Tiring of the mental debate he had going on with his inner self, he offered his reflection a final explanation. “I guess I just need for Frase to know that I love him, that I truly care for him, and that he’s more than just a partner.”

Ray straightened to his full height and smiled a smile that reflected the feelings of inner peace and contentment that had settled over him, a smile that was undeniably the result of having one very unique Mountie in his life.

“And in my life is where you’ll stay, Benton buddy. You and me, nerd and freak. A duet forever.”

He did a little dance and twirled around. What the hell!

He didn’t care anymore if anyone saw him acting crazy. He was crazy, crazy in love with a man who drove him absolutely nuts. A man he had been attracted to from the moment the two of them had hugged each other.

Speaking of the first time he had had the pleasure of holding Fraser in his arms, he checked the date on his new digital watch and discovered that particular embrace had occurred almost three years ago to the day. Maybe it was time to celebrate their upcoming anniversary with a little re-enactment.

Yep. One of Fraser’s patented bear hugs sounded just like what the doctor ordered, Dr. Kowalski, that is. And maybe, just maybe this hug, if I play my cards right, will turn out to be a little bit more X-rated than the original version. X-rated as in naked in bed and fucking like bunnies on speed.

Oh yeah.

“Me and Fraser. Fraser and me. Me and Fraser and Dief makes three,” he sang under his breath as he exited the men’s restroom and made his way over to his desk.

Two familiar hands gripped his shoulders a moment after he sat down and pulled him into a fierce hug. It wasn’t the hug he had just been thinking about, but it would do until he could convince Fraser to indulge in a naughtier embrace. “Frase! My man! How’s it hangin’?”

“Ray, I have the most exhilarating news to share with you.”

Clearing his mind of the image of Fraser stretched out naked on his bed, Ray gave his head a hard shake. He then tossed the file regarding their current case back on his desk and turned around to face his partner with a welcoming smile on his lips.

“Exciting news? I’ve got some exciting news of my own, Frase, but you go first. You tell me your news first.”

He glanced up at Fraser and instantly got lost in the eyes whose color reminded him of those cool March mornings when, as a child, he and his dad would fly kites. The sky had been so crystal clear and blue that he had known without a doubt that he was looking up at heaven.

Shifting his gaze from the startling sapphire eyes staring down at him to the full lips smiling at him, he thought, Yeah, I am definitely looking at heaven. Heaven on earth that just happens to be wearing the sexiest uniform man had ever created. A uniform that, given the opportunity, I would gladly take all night peeling off piece by piece by . . .

“…should have my transfer papers by Monday. The first available flight is scheduled to leave early Tuesday morning, and if everything goes according to schedule, I should be at the cabin no later than Wednesday afternoon.”

Fraser’s voice finally halted his wandering thoughts, and he stared at his partner in complete disbelief. Certainly he had misunderstood. No way in hell could he have heard what he thought he had heard. Maybe his ears were clogged up with wax again. Yeah, that was it. Clogged up ears. Of course, Fraser wasn’t . . .

“Ray? Are you listening to me? Do you need me to repeat what I just said?”

Concerned blue eyes scoured his face as strong fingers wrapped around his suddenly clammy hands.

“Huh? What? You’re leaving?”

“Yes, Ray. Inspector Jacobson has finally granted my request for a transfer.”

Fraser took his customary seat next to the desk, his face animated with excitement. “I’ve been homesick for so long, and although I have enjoyed living here in your fair city, it, in no way, can compare to the beauty of the Canadian wilderness.”

“But Frase, I thought, I mean…” Unsuccessfully, Ray grabbed for the hand that had just been gripping his. He watched as it, along with all his plans for the future, slipped out of sight and out of reach.

This was not how it was supposed to go. None of his mental rehearsals had included the devastating news that had just been handed to him. Fraser wasn’t supposed to leave. His plans called for them to set up house here in Chicago. Together. Him and Fraser. Fraser and him. Here. Together. Not him here and Fraser there. That wouldn’t work, whatsoever.

Long distance relationships never worked, didn’t Fraser know that? How in the hell was he supposed to court his Mountie if said Mountie was living somewhere in the frozen North? Fraser’s cabin didn’t even have a goddamn phone, for Christ’s sake. Not to mention mail was only delivered to that region of Canada every couple of weeks. What was he supposed to do? Send love letters by courier pigeon or, better yet, dogsled?

No, no, no. Fraser could not leave. It screwed up everything. Absolutely everything.

Determined to set his errant colleague straight, he reached out for Fraser, but his hand was unintentionally knocked aside when Fraser jumped up suddenly and clutched his hat to his chest.

“I’ve got so much to do,” his partner announced. “Pack. Say goodbye to all my friends. Arrange for Dief to be quarantined. Ah, the list goes on and on.” A look of wonderment came over Fraser’s face as he gently touched him on the shoulder. “I’m going home, Ray. I’m going home.”

Stunned speechless, he watched Fraser walk away, muttering something about returning to the Consulate and instructing Turnbull on his new responsibilities.

He’s leaving me. He’s leaving me.

Scrambling to his feet and taking a hesitant step forward, he kept his gaze fixed upon his departing friend until he was out of sight, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Fraser would turn around at the last minute, walk back with an apologetic smile on his face, and ask him to accompany him to Canada.

Come on, Frase. Turn around. Turn around and hit me with that irresistible grin of yours.

Looking around the room, he waved his hand in Fraser’s direction and announced to no one in particular. “He’s coming right back. Yep. Just give him a second, and he’ll be hightailin’ it right back to yours truly.”

The Mountie never turned around, and each step that took him further and further away from him tightened the vice-like grip of hopelessness on his vulnerable heart.

“Frase?”

Once Fraser was gone from view, Ray felt his legs suddenly go weak; and before he could fall on his ass and make a complete fool of himself in front of his co-workers, he stumbled back to his workstation. Digging his nails into the edges of his desk, he collapsed down in his chair and dropped his head into his hands, struggling to breathe through the pain that was threatening to crush him. Tears scalded his eyes as one thought kept repeating itself over and over in his mind.

Fraser’s leaving me. Fraser’s leaving me.

“You okay, Kowalski?”

Clenching his teeth tightly shut so that he wouldn’t say something he would regret later, he shook off Dewey’s hand from his shoulder and wearily stood up. No way was he staying here. Besides, how the fuck was he supposed to get any work done with a heart that was shattering into a million pieces?

Fraser’s leaving me. Fraser’s leaving me.

The pain in his chest was starting to obliterate all thoughts, all emotions, leaving him helplessly adrift. Afraid his control would completely unravel and leave him bawling like the wimp so many of his colleagues thought he was, he ripped his jacket off the back of his chair and headed toward the stairwell, turning a deaf ear to Lieutenant Welsh’s bellow for him to return and a blind eye to the curious gazes that followed his retreat.

None of that mattered now.

Now that Fraser had left him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Having driven home in a complete haze and not really caring that he had done so, Ray slammed shut the door to his apartment, wincing slightly when the force its closing rattled the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. Mumbling a half-hearted apology to his neighbors, he made a beeline for the kitchen and the counter where his answering machine sat.

“Come on, Benton buddy. Talk to me. Tell me how stupid I’m being. Of course, you’re not leaving. It was all a dream, and you and Dief are on your way over, and we’ll go out and get a pizza and some beer and have a roaring good laugh ‘bout all this.”

He hit the play message button and his faith in Fraser and their relationship took another nosedive when he discovered the only message waiting for him was from his landlady, reminding him of their monthly supper get-together.

“ . . . and bring that nice Mountie of yours. He looks like he could do with a home-cooked meal.”

Ray scrubbed his hands over his face and let out a mournful sigh. “Number one, Mrs. Potts, he’s not my Mountie and number two . . . ” Dropping down into the nearest chair, he clutched at his chest, the returning pain causing him to choke on his words. “Num . . . number two, he won’t… he won’t be here next Sunday.”

Won’t be here. Fraser won’t be here.

Shaking his head in denial of his fate, he finally let out the sob that had been clawing at the back of his throat. “Fraser, please. Please don’t do this to me. To us.” Shoulders drooping, he dropped his head down onto the hard cold metal surface of the small table that sat just outside his kitchen and gave free reign to the tears he’d been forcing back from the moment Fraser had hit him with the news of his transfer home.

How could Fraser leave him behind? How could he not want him along?

They were partners, friends, soulmates. Two halves of the same heart. That wasn’t something you just ripped apart, sending one half to parts unknown while leaving the remaining half bleeding and in agony. How was one supposed to survive without the other? Why would one even want to survive without the other at their side?

The memories of his near-death experience in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan and while perched on that snow-covered slope in the Yukon crossed his mind, and he shuddered. Suicide was not the answer, but a life without Fraser wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate either.

He had done the alone thing and it sucked. Sucked bigtime. Even when him and Stella were suffering through the last days of their marriage, it was a hundred times better living in a house with another human being, however much that particular human being despised his guts. Definitely better than living alone in a claustrophobic one-bedroom apartment with only the sound of his breathing to keep him from going completely insane.

A familiar scratching on his ankle distracted him from his dark thoughts and reaching down, he collected Mr. T the Second, his newest pet turtle, or tortoise as Fraser was so fond of reminding him. He placed his reptilian friend on the table in front of him and shared a sad smile with him.

“It’s just you and me, Mr. T,” he bemoaned their fate while tickling the tortoise under his chin. “Fraser’s . . .” He stopped and rubbed his runny nose with the back of his hand. “Fraser’s going back home, and you and I weren’t invited along for the ride.”

Disheartened, he gazed around his apartment and noted how neat and tidy everything was. Fraser had accomplished that particular miracle, done it without even asking. Just showed up at his door one rainy afternoon and declared it was time for him to put his place of residence in order. Of course, it had taken him several weeks to discover where Fraser had stored all his junk, and to be honest, he couldn’t even begin to imagine returning to the disorganized solitary existence he had led before being teamed with Fraser.

“Life’s not gonna be worth shit without our guys around,” he groused, referring to both Fraser and Dief.

Mimicking his master’s desire for Canadian manhood, Mr. T had taken a great liking to a certain deaf wolf, and more often than not on those days when Fraser and Dief would stay over for dinner, the adventuresome tortoise would somehow manage to climb his way onto a napping Dief and snuggle in for his own siesta. He, himself, had often followed suit, falling asleep with his head tucked against Fraser’s shoulder and snoring loud enough, no doubt, to drown out whatever mind-numbing BBC special Fraser was watching on the TV.

“We’re losing our cuddle buddies, Mr. T.”

Obviously his companion was just as upset as he was, and he expertly caught Mr. T before he could crawl off the edge of the table. He hugged the small reptile to his chest for a short moment and then carefully set him on the floor.

“Throwing yourself off the ledge isn’t gonna solve things, T. It’ll just add to the fucking pain, and I’m dealing with more of that than I can handle at this moment.

Resuming his previous position with his head lying on the table, but this time cradled in his arms, he watched his pet slowly crawl across the floor. Several times he had to dash away the tears obscuring his vision, but never once did his gaze waver from the path Mr. T was taking.

It wasn’t long before the tortoise’s destination became apparent to him, and before he could take his next breath, he was out of his chair and dropping to his knees in front of the living room couch. Gently scooting Mr. T to the side, he pulled out the steel box he had hidden beneath the couch and thumbed open the combination lock. He collected his pet and held him against his heart while staring at the contents of the box, conflicting thoughts waging a battle in his mind.

Should I do it?

Would it help?

Can I face myself in the morning if I did?

Do I really give a damn one way or the other?

Ray lifted out one of the few items he would die saving if his apartment ever caught on fire and buried his face in its softness, allowing the thick material to absorb the moisture still leaking from his eyes and muffle the heartbreaking whimpers he couldn’t seem to silence.

Suddenly, as if a switch somewhere in his mind had been thrown, his despair mutated into an overwhelming anger, and he started cursing at the top of his lungs.

“Fuck! Fuck it all to hell!”

If Fraser didn’t care about him, he sure as hell didn’t care about Fraser. And he damn well wasn’t going to waste another tear on his so-called friend. Friends didn’t leave friends behind and, therefore, him and Fraser obviously weren’t friends.

He carefully placed Mr. T out of harm’s way before scrambling to his feet and viciously kicking the steel box back under the couch. The air in the apartment turned bluer as he began to pace back and forth, his curses now being heaped upon the head of his former friend and departing partner.

“Fuck Fraser! Fuck him for leaving me behind! Fuck all the bastards who don’t give a shit about who they hurt.”

His abusive yelling finally caught the attention of his neighbors, and they protested his verbal narration by banging on the walls and the ceiling, adding their own vocals to the mix when he refused to lower the volume of his curses.

It took him nearly a half hour to list every person who had wounded his heart and left his spirit in tatters. When he finally got around to Fraser, he let loose one last, ‘Go to hell!’ and slammed out of his apartment, leaving stunned neighbors standing in their open doorways staring after him in complete confusion.

He didn’t care that he had shocked old Miss Tanner from across the hall with his yelling or that he had crashed into Mr. Jansen on his way out the front door and nearly toppled the elderly man down the steps.

All he cared about was stopping the ache in his heart.

No matter what.

No matter how.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

With a familiar red uniform jacket clutched in one hand, he shoved his way through the doors of his favorite hangout. Approaching the owner of the establishment, he gritted his teeth against the pain and hoarsely whispered his request.

“Line ‘em up, Sal. And don’t stop bringing ‘em ‘til I tell ya to.”

 

End of . . . Rescue Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [You can find me on Tumblr!](http://angelise7.tumblr.com/)


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